Monday
by Aleiksa
Summary: An simple job turns disastrous when Riggs ends up in trouble. Whump, etc.
1. Four Hours

_A Whump fic, of which I will attempt to finish. Riggs gets into trouble while tracking down a diamond thief. The whole team works together to help him. If you, dear reader, are just here for the whump or h/c, I totally get it._

* * *

Looking up at the rain, Riggs could only wonder if he ever had a shot at a long life. He didn't think so, not now, but maybe in the start. Maybe if his Dad hadn't been so often drunk. Maybe if his Mom had kept fighting. Maybe if cancer didn't exist.

Nah, there was too much stacked against him. If it was gonna go, this would be how.

The pooling water below him would be pink by now. He was no stranger to how bleeding bodies looked. Belly shots bled a lot. He should probably pass out any minute now. There were worse ways to go.

 **Four hours earlier**

"We got an address on Nash." Bailey announced to a pleased Averly and less-so Roger.

"Perfect." Avery spun on his heel to look at Roger. "You can take _that one,_ and I can explain to the city why they have on less Starbucks."

"We had ideal reason to believe Nash stored the diamonds there."

"I'm talking about blowing up the espresso maker, Rog." Avery retorted. Cutting off a defensive ' _Riggs-did-that-I-had-no-idea'_ story from Roger, he pointed to the door. Roger nodded as he and Bailey retreated out of his office.

"Riggs!" Roger strode into the office looking satisfied. "Bailey got a hit on our Diamond guy."

Looking delighted at his escape from paperwork, Riggs grabbed his jacket and keys. "Weren't you clocking out?"

"Yeah, well, Trish is cooking tonight, and, I… you know."

"Ah." Riggs winked. "I won't say anything."

"Oh, you better not." Roger retorted. "I'm driving. God knows how many of those coffee beans you inhaled."

Bailey watched the two of them leave. Turning back to her computer, she curiously entered the address into Google Earth. Yellow ugly, one floor house, looked like it was built in the 60s and never repainted.

She shrugged and got up to make another coffee. 

* * *

Dom Nash was ready. The two idiots were going to come in here thinking some measly jewelry store thief was waiting for them. They probably half expected him to be high! But no, the diamonds were just a bonus. Avery was the one he wanted to pick a fight with. Asshole took out his inside guy. Samuels got him the drugs, he had the contacts. It was a very nice deal. Until Avery messed it up. Samuels would be in court tomorrow. All he had to do was delay him.

…

Pulling up at the ugly yellow building, Riggs hopped out of the car nearly before Roger had stopped.

"Riggs!"

"I'm not fast, you're slow."

Roger could only sigh, as he joined Riggs walking up the path. Arriving at the door, Riggs reached up to knock as the door swung open a crack.

"Oh, look, at that. Invited in." Riggs drew his gun and looked pushed the door open. "Nash? You in here?" Hearing no answer, the pair stepped inside. "Nash?"

The shot came out of nowhere. Roger and Riggs dove behind a sofa, as the shots stopped, reloading.

"Okay," Riggs sighed. "He'd have to be in the kitchen, that's the only place where he could shoot at us without us seeing him." A few more shots peppered the couch. "I'll go through the hallway, get him from behind, you hold him off."

" _I_ hold him off?"

"Yeah."

" _You_ hold him off."

"Are we gonna do this now?"

"How should I hold him off!?"

Riggs stared at his partner. "Is this about Trish's cooking?"

"No, of course it isn't. You know what-"

"I'm going. Cover me." Riggs sprinted out from behind the couch as Roger looked over and answered the restarting gunfire.

The kitchen was dark lit up only by flashes from Nash's automatic weapon. There was a pause, and Roger jamp to the doorframe. No shots followed him.

"Riggs?" Hearing nothing, Roger peared towards the kitchen. He got up. No shots. "Did ya get him, Riggs?" Silence. "Riggs?"

Roger rushed towards the kitchen, terrified. He vaulted over the counter and… saw no one. The floor was covered in shell casings. It was completely silent, the only sound Roger's breathing. Outside a car started. Roger spun around and sprinted through the door.

A black sedan sped away. Roger fired a shot or two after it before he ran empty. The Sedan sped away, but not before Roger caught the plate.

He stared after them, then picked up his phone. "Bailey. 5-Lima-Whisky-Foxtrot-7-9-1-Bravo. Run it. They've taken Riggs."


	2. Three Hours

_Oh, look at this, two chapters. I had someone wonder why I was so cruel to Trish's cooking. In the original film, it was a running gag. I'm personally surprised it didn't show up in the series. Bit of whump here, more coming in part three, I promise._

 _I have nothing to Boyle Heights, it's just where I landed my street view._

 **Three hours before**

Riggs woke up in the backseat of a car. Which, although unpleasant, was better than the trunk. Before moving he did a quick self assessment. Not shot, but hit on the head. Maybe a concussion? Deciding it was nothing serious, he struggled to get up with his hands duct-taped in front of him.

"Are you Nash?" he asked the driver.

"Shut up, I really don't need you healthy."

Taking the advice, Riggs settled into the seat. He wasn't quite sure where they were, even after a year and a half, streets tended to look the same. Either big-ass mansions or crumbling concrete buildings. One or the other. This was crumbling concrete buildings. They were in some sort of Suburbia, but that was about all Riggs could gather. He picked at the duct-tape cutting into his wrists and tried to look for a street sign.

Just as they came to an intersection, Nash took a hard left, and pulled into a deserted garage. Stopping the engine, he got out, locked the car, and shut the garage door behind him.

A couple of identical thugs were stationed at a table in the corner. They looked up from whatever card game they were playing and walked over to Nash. Nash pointed back at the car and said something to the thugs.

Riggs took it as a sign to hurry up with the duct tape. He didn't quite get there. Thug 1 opened the car door and roughly pulled him out. Before Riggs could get out a wisecrack comment about Thug 1's intelligence, he took a fist to the mouth.

"Let's _not_ talk, yeah?"

Riggs nodded his agreement, and Thug 1 yanked him to his feet. Depositing Riggs in a heap in the corner of the garage, Nash and Thug 2 sat down at the table.

Thug 1 towered over Riggs. Slowly, he pulled a gun from his waistband and cocked it, the whole time staring at Riggs, emotionless. Riggs grinned. Thug 1 kicked into Riggs' ribs, taking his breath away.

Nash sauntered over, standing beside 1. "Phone."

"Oh?" Riggs would have said more, but his breath wasn't quite back.

"Your phone. Unlock it and give it to me."

"Ah, I think I left that in the house, but I can go get it if you-"

This time it was Nash who kicked Riggs. "Look, buddy. I am on a schedule."

Thug 1 pulled Riggs to his feet and patted it down. Not finding the phone, he shrugged and dropped Riggs. Riggs fell on his back, gasping. He watched the Nash and his Thug walk back to the table. He glanced to the car, confident his abductors would not find his phone hidden under the seat.

…

"Track his phone."

"Done." Bailey "He's in Boyle Heights, 6487 Joshua Dr."

Bowman stood up. "Do we call him?"

Avery turned to Roger. "Maybe we should?"

Roger shook his head. It was too risky. What if calling Riggs only irritated his abductors? What if he was hiding, and the ringing phone would give him up?

"Roger?"

"Do it."

…

Riggs sat against a wall of the garage, assessing the situation. If he could get up, make a run for it, he could take them one at a time. But all three, that would be a struggle.

He shifted his hands in the duct tape. Thug 2, the only one facing him, must have been near-sighted, because he didn't seem to notice, just how close Riggs was to stretching off the duct-tape. Unless it was far-sighted? Riggs could never remember the difference.

…

Bailey tapped in Riggs' number into her phone, bluetoothed onto her desk speakers.

She hit call.

…

Riggs pulled the duct tape from his wrists, slowly, no quick moves, nothing that would look like he was, well, _escaping._

A muffled ring sounded.

…

The phone rang again.

Bailey looked to Roger. "Were you expecting someone to pick up?"

…

"Is that yours?" Both thugs shook their heads.

Nash got up and stormed to Riggs. "Where is it?"

"Oh, you know what, I might have left that in the car," Riggs replied. "Sorry."

Nash spun around. "Go get that!" He snarled at the thugs.

Riggs saw his chance. Leaping to his feet he lunged at the unarmed Nash, swinging a freed fist into his eye. With Nash down, he sprinted towards the door, hoping that the Thugs would stay distracted just long enough for him to get out.

A shot rang out, and Riggs fell.

 _Short, again, but hoping to get the rest done soon. Thanks for reading._


End file.
